


glowing like the moon and burning like the sun

by amemorymaze



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Early Larry, Insomnia, Kinda, Louis playing the piano, M/M, Not AU, The X Factor Era, also, and he does, because harry is an insomniac, just not in the ways that he thinks, louis just wants to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amemorymaze/pseuds/amemorymaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"The soft glow from the winter sun is filtering it's way through the glass windows, bathing the boy in a blazing glow. Harry just lets a blinding smile light up his face because that’s the way he always sees Louis – smothered in light, shining and bursting from him, glowing like the moon and burning like the sun."</i><br/> </p><p> </p><p>Where Harry has trouble sleeping and Louis (un)intentionally helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	glowing like the moon and burning like the sun

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm kinda new to the 1d fandom and I have a tumblr [here](http://www.amemorymaze.tumblr.com) so you can totally follow me there. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> (Also [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsTjI75uEUQ) is the song Louis plays Harry)

Harry has always had trouble sleeping; ever since he could walk he has vague, distant memories of crawling into his parents bed. He would try and seek comfort in the warmth of their bodies and would eventually drift off to sleep.

But then there came a point where he realised that he couldn’t _do_ that anymore and instead, he plugged his earphones in and listened to the tune of The Beatles and Elvis Presley beating through the small speakers. He would close his eyes and lay in the darkness until the sun came up; only managing to slip into the edge of unconsciousness before he would have to get out of bed and go to school.

He thought that maybe he would grow out of it and that maybe, somewhere along the line, he would be able to lay down in bed and drift off to sleep in minutes – exhaustion dragging him unconscious.

He doesn’t.

His mum starts turning the house alarm off because there are some nights where he can’t stay in his room. Where he tosses and turns in his bed, restlessness keeping him up to the point where he creeps down the stairs – trying not to wake anyone up. He would unlock the back door and let the fresh, cold air hit him.

Sometimes he would just sit by the door and stare up at the stars, watch as they twinkle and shine in the dark sky. He’ll let the cool air breeze over his clammy skin and help his shoulders to relax and his eyelids to droop.

Other times, when that itch under his skin is getting too much, he’ll wander down to the end of the garden and lay down in the grass. The wet dew that’s clinging to the green blades soaks into the thin material of his pyjama shirt.

He’ll throw an arm over his eyes and just _breathe._

 

+

 

Living in the X-Factor house is excitement and almost burning down the kitchen with Louis’ cooking; it’s Wii tournaments where Liam almost always wins at bowling and Niall at golf. 

It’s Niall grabbing his guitar and them all having impromptu jam sessions in the rec room, all the contestants lounging around on the floor as they giggle and try to reach notes they know they can’t. It’s butchering Teenage Dirtbag and everyone shamelessly knowing all the words to Taylor Swift.

But it’s also full of a constant thrum of nervous energy and humming melodies under their breath as they try to memorize lyrics. It’s that nervousness surrounding them all, wondering who is going to be the next to leave.

There are days where they keep to themselves, practicing and singing their hearts out because it is, after all, still a competition.

One thing that doesn’t change for Harry is the nights. He will still lie awake in his bed hours after everyone has fallen asleep and although it’s not something that Harry had really expected to change, there had been a spark of hope in the back of his brain. He would pray that maybe the sound of the other boys breathing would lull him to sleep. That the deep exhaustion that’s constantly settled deep within his bones would ease slightly.

But now he just finds himself lying in bed, staring up at the metal bars of the bunk above him. He traces the patterns on the bottom of the mattress with his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. (It never does.)

It takes three days for him to crack; sliding out from under his duvet, he sneaks out of the room, the creaking of the door loud in the silence of the sleeping boys.

He can’t stay in that bed any longer. He can’t lie there as the other boys sleep around him and he can’t stay there as he twists and turns, cocooning himself into his duvet. So he drags himself out of his bed and creeps his way down the corridor and down the stairs.

He knows that if Liam saw him now, he’d get that look of disappointment on his face. He’d tell Harry how he needs to get sleep – needs to get rest for their big night on Saturday. But instead he’s slowly creaking open the back door and slipping outside. He finds himself sitting on the hard concrete of the patio, staring up at the starless London sky.

Leaning on his hands, he tilts his head back and just watches the sky and listens to the rustling of the leaves on the trees. He feels a cold chill settle into his bones and his hands begins to ache.

The light flickers on behind him and Harry jumps up with a start, his heart bursting with adrenaline as beams of light filter through the windows and onto the lawn.

“Haz?” A figure appears in the light; hair sleep rumpled and eyes glossed over with fatigue and Harry feels a small smile turn up his lips; “What are you doing out here?”

Harry shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Louis nods as he rubs his eyes, as if trying to rid himself of his tiredness. “Hot chocolate?”

“Huh?”

“We even have whipped cream and mini marshmallows,” Louis says, turning towards the kitchen, “That always helps my little sisters when they can’t sleep.”

Harry nods and moves inside to sit on one of the stools by the counter as he watches Louis grab the ingredients out of the cupboards. He pulls his sleeves over his hands, covering the goosebumps over his skin and rests his head in his hands as a fond smile settles across his lips.

Even though he knows that it won’t help, Harry is content to let Louis try. He’s happy to sit next to Louis up on the breakfast bar; his hands cupped around a mug of burning liquid, topped with cream and a scattering of marshmallows. Harry misses the way Louis stares at him with his jaw dropped slightly as he swirls his finger in the cream and sliding it into his mouth.

But then he’s lifting his eyes and looking up from under his dark lashes, heavy with sleep. He watches with wide, glistening eyes as Louis tries to take a small sip from his own mug and just ends up getting cream stuck to his upper lip.

Harry’s shoulders shake with silent giggles and Louis tries to lick the cream from his lips before giving up and wiping them with the back of his hand.

Because maybe this won’t help him fall into a slumber, but he feels lighter in Louis’ presence as they burn their tongues on chocolate and soothe it with cream and marshmallows.

 

+

 

The second time Louis’ finds him struggling to sleep is a week later.  They have their first live show under their belt, glad to be through to the second week (even though the relief lasted a mere twelve hours because the next day it was back to practice). The stress hasn’t been good for Harry – for his sleep, keeping him up all night as his mind spins with lyrics and melodies.

But tonight, he sits in his bed with his legs crossed and replays the entire day in his mind. He remembers the way he’d snapped at Niall, causing the constant smile on his face to dim slightly. He remembers how he’d stormed out of the kitchen when Louis and Zayn started throwing food around. He remembers completely ignoring Liam.

All he can think is _stupid, stupid, stupid, they’re not going to want you in the band anymore._ He wonders how they even put up with him when he treats them like this.

Even though, in the back of his mind, he knows that it’s because of his lack of sleep, he can't help it. The bags are beginning to show underneath his eyes and his limbs are starting to feel heavy as he moves. Harry knows that it isn’t healthy, that his body needs rest but he just _can’t_.

He can’t find a way to make his brain slow down and quiet – he can’t stop the thoughts swirling and racing throughout his mind. So, once again, he slips out of the room, down the stairs and out into the cool, fresh air.

But it doesn’t help and he doesn’t know why, he sits on the damp grass, with his legs drawn up to his chest as he shivers, his breath catching in his throat as he looks up at the sky.

He almost chokes as he struggles to breathe, struggles as the air claws up his throat. He feels his eyes stinging and he rubs them with fisted hands, moving a hand to tug at his hair.

“Is this, like, a thing?”

Harry jumps around in shock; his heartbeat fluttering as it speeds up, bursting out of his chest.

Louis takes a step onto the patio and moves towards Harry with the only sound being his bare feet crunching against the leaves and grass on the floor, and trees rustling in the night air.

“I’m sorry,” Harry manages to gasp out, his voice rough and raw with emotion and it causes Louis to pause for a second before he drops down beside Harry.

“Everything alright?” Louis asks, concern lacing in his voice as he lifts a hand to rest it on Harry’s back.

Harry shrugs, the heavy weight of the hand on his back acting as an anchor, holding him to the ground; “Can’t sleep,” he murmurs.

A sad smile spread across Louis’ face, “So last week wasn’t a one-off thing, huh?”

Harry stares at the ground, “Not really,” he says, rubbing his eyes again, “It’s getting worse.”

And before Harry knows what’s happening, he’s being pulled close into the body next to him and all he can think to do is grasp Louis tight and soak in his presence. He breathes in the scent that’s just _Louis_ and waits for his heartbeat to slow. (Which it doesn’t because it’s racing for a completely different reason now.)

When Louis drags Harry back to their room, claiming that his arse is going numb and he feels like his toes are going to freeze off, he stops in the darkened hallway and asks in a soft, tender voice with his eyes full with a mixture of concern and care if there’s anything that he can do to help.

Harry hates the way he voice breaks slightly as he shakes his head; “Not really, no.”

Louis just stares at him for a few moments, the air sparking with electricity around them and Harry loses himself in the blueness of those eyes. But then they blink and he’s thrown back to reality and Louis’ grabbing his hand, pulling him up the stairs, back to a bed that Harry won’t sleep in.

 

+

 

The next evening Louis suggests a Mario Kart tournament, which ends up with popcorn scattered around the room from where it’s been thrown. Crisps have been crunched into the carpet and the remotes thrown by the tv where they’d given up at about 2am when they realised there would be no clear winner.

The boys are spread around the room; Niall asleep on the floor, curled up next to the coffee table, Liam stretched across an armchair, his legs dangling off the end. Zayn’s curled up into a ball on the other, his eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones as he sleeps.

And Louis, well, Louis is currently tucked up behind Harry on the sofa, their legs tangled with Louis’ arms wrapped around Harry’s waist. They’ve both fallen into a deep slumber, smiles on their faces.

When they wake the next morning, Harry will roll over and fall flat on his face and Louis will laugh until tears form in his eyes. And despite getting bruised knees and arms, Harry will smile back brightly and watch as Louis laugh wakes up the other boys who groan in discomfort.

But Harry’s good mood won’t disappear because, for once, he hadn’t been awake for the sunrise.

 

+

 

“Hey mum,” Harry murmurs, walking out of the kitchen as he answers the phone, his voice low.

“Harry,” she says, her voice soft and tender and it almost makes Harry want to cry, “Are you okay?”

His breath hitches in his throat and he’s suddenly glad he isn’t surrounded by the others. He slips into the front room and makes his way to the window seat and avoids the question; “I miss you.”

“Oh, honey,” and Harry shivers at the pet name, a small smile turning up his lips; “We miss you, too.”

“How’s home?” he asks, and he’s so glad that his mum can read him and takes the bait. Glad that she knows when he doesn’t want to talk.

He listens as she tells him stories about their neighbours and Gemma. She tells him how proud everyone is of him and about the antics that she’s gotten up to a work recently. And it’s so nice to hear a sense of normality – something that’s not sing this or sing that, something that’s not about the stress of whether or not they’ll still be here next week. Something that’s not about the way Louis’ throat moves when sings and the way Harry finds himself staring at him when he’s making Zayn laugh.

“I like boys,” Harry says, all of a sudden, cutting his mum off from her stories and he feels like he should be more nervous – his hands should be shaking and his mind should be reeling with her possible reactions but they’re not. “I mean, I – I don’t really know, I just…”

“Like one boy in particular, maybe?” She hints and Harry can almost hear the teasing smile in her voice. 

“Muuuuum,” Harry whines, as he drops his head to his knees.

“You’re kind of obvious, darling.”

Harry groans, pushing his curls off of his forehead, “Don’t say that.”

His mum laughs; “Well, if the way you’re always talking about Louis – ”

“I didn’t say anything about Louis, it could be Niall for all you know – ”

His mum laughs down the phone line, causing Harry to smile even wider and a laugh to tumble from his lips.

But then the door is creaking open and Harry’s heart stutters in his chest as Louis walks in, a small, apologetic smile on his face and a plate in his hand; “Cher made cake?” he says, shrugging.

Harry smiles, nodding at Louis before motioning to his phone; “Hey, mum, Cher made us all cake so I’m gonna go, but I’ll speak to you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, have fun with Louis” she says and Harry just knows that there’s a twinkle in her eyes as she talks; “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And then the line goes dead and Harry looks up at Louis; “So, cake?”

Louis laughs, his voice bright and happy and Harry’s heart twists in his chest and he wonders if he’s already in too deep with this boy.

 

+

 

He falls asleep during rehearsals on the third week.

They’re backstage in a dressing room and he’s wearing old joggers and Louis’ Hollister hoodie. He lies down on the sofa in the corner of the room, waiting for their turn, listening as Liam runs through his lines and Zayn and Niall giggle in the corner.

His head in in Louis’ lap and his lanky legs are dangling off the edge of the chair but there are hands running through his soft curls and he feels himself lull into a soft sleep.

And when he slips back into consciousness, he doesn’t open his eyes - just lays there, listening as the boys murmur around him in soft voices. He’s not quite ready to wake properly, so settles in the state in between being awake and sleeping.

“- hasn’t been getting much sleep,” he hears Louis say and, _oh,_ they’re talking about him.

“How comes?” Liam asks.

Harry guesses Louis shrugs because his body jostles slightly, “Stress, maybe? I have no idea, mate.”

They’re both silent for a moment, Louis hands still tangled in Harry’s hair before Liam speaks again. “Just – make sure he’s okay, yeah? He seems to really like you, god knows why.”

A short, quiet burst of laughter flies around the room and Harry swears he can hear the smile in Louis’ voice, “I’ll have you know I’m quite the catch, Payno.”

Harry can almost hear Liam roll his eyes in reply and then the door is closing with a soft click.

“Haz,” Louis says, gently removing his hands from his curls, touching his shoulder gently, “Wake up.”

Harry mumbles, before giving a yawn and opening his eyes blearily, “Wha’?”

“We’re up soon,” Louis says with a soft, comforting smile on his face; “You gotta pretty yourself up.”

“It’s rehearsals,” Harry mumbles, letting his eyes drift shut again, “Don’t have to look pretty.” There’s a short pause then he opens his eyes, glaring at Louis who’s got a huge grin across his face, “Hey, I always look pretty.”

“Sure you do, love,” Louis says and Harry tries to ignore the way the name sends shivers down his spine, “That drool on your chin totally completes the look.”

Harry rolls his eyes, wiping his face with the back of his hand before he swings his legs onto the floor and stretches out his muscles. He completely misses the way Louis stares as his shirt stretches across his back and how they flicker as his shirt rides up, showing off his pale skin.

“We should go,” Louis says, standing up, “We’re on in like, ten minutes or something.”

“Okay,” Harry mumbles and follows Louis out into the corridor.

They don’t get very far before Louis’ stopping and turning back to Harry, concern etched onto his face; “Are you alright?”

“Huh?” Harry says, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re one of my best mates,” Louis says, grasping Harry’s shoulder.

“Louis –” Harry begins but Louis cuts him off.

“I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping, but I’m here for you, alright?”

Harry just nods, looking down at the floor.

“We’re in this together,” Louis says, sliding his hand so that it cradles Harry’s elbow, “All of us – we’re a team, a unit. And, you know, the others are worried about you – ”

“I didn’t mean to make them worry,” Harry starts, his eyes growing wide in shock.

Louis just shakes his head, “They – _we_ – care about you, Haz. If there’s anything we can do to help, anything _I_ can do to help, just let us know, please?”

And then Harry’s throwing his arms around Louis, burying his face in the crook of his neck as he mumbles thanks into the skin. Louis squeezes tight as if Harry might disappear at any moment and they just sink into each other’s embrace.

But then they’re pulling back and Louis pretends not to notice the way Harry tries (and fails) to discreetly wipe the tears from his eyes. He pretends not to notice the way Harry’s voice breaks as he speaks; “That means a lot, thank you.”

“Anytime,” Louis says before he slings his arm around Harry’s shoulders and they walk down the corridor.

 

+

 

Every week they manage to stay in the competition, Harry stands in shock because they’re doing this and they might actually have a chance. And he tries not to get his hopes up because he knows that there’s always the next week and that they might not be there then.

And yes, he really wants this, wants it _so_ bad. But he realises that he doesn’t want to lose the boys if they go out. He’s going to miss the boys _so badly_ if they go out. He’s learned to love their company and the way they never fail to make him laugh.

They’re slowly but surely becoming his best friends and Harry doesn’t know what he’d do without them.

So that’s why he finds himself sitting on the window seat in the front room at three am on a Thursday night, his journal ( _“No, it’s not a diary, Niall”)_ on his lap and chewing on the end of the pen that’s in his hand. There are smudges of ink on his fingers from where he’s scribbled across the pages and crossed passages out.

He’s scribbling a heart onto one of the pages when the door creaks open and Harry snaps the journal shut and lifts his eyes to the intruder. He’s barely surprised to find Louis sneaking into the room and dropping himself onto the piano bench.

“You know I meant it,” Louis says, “Last week, when I said you _can_ ask for help.”

“I know,” Harry says, “I just – it’s three in the morning, I’m not going to wake you up too just because I can’t sleep.”

“You should,” Louis says, his voice weak with tiredness. “At least let me keep you company?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles, his voice deep and rasping, “Yeah, that would be nice.”

And Louis does.

There’s a moment then, as Harry sits on the window seat, his back against the wall and his legs thrown haphazardly across the cushions in front of him, that he feels his breath being taken away. Stolen from his lungs as his head is turned lazily towards where Louis is sitting on the hard piano bench.

His back is dead straight, composed in a way Harry rarely sees, and his hands are trailing along the piano keys, lightly pressing at them, the noise ringing through the room. There’s a soft smile on his face; warm and content as he traces the keys.

The moonlight is shining into the room from the wide, open windows behind Harry. There's a silvery glow beaming down on Harry’s face, highlighting his cheekbones and the blazing green of his eyes – sparkling as he watches Louis.

Then Louis is turning his head towards Harry and that smile is directed towards him. It’s so intimate and it’s just for him. There’s no one to impress, no one to prove anything to. There’s no one else; just the two of them. And it’s so different to what he usually sees. Normally it’s that cheeky tilt of his lips or the laughter at his own jokes. Sometimes he catches Harry’s gaze and he’ll smile this small smile but it’s always only glimpses that he seldom gets to see.

It causes butterflies to dance around his stomach and his heart to beat so erratically that he feels like it could fly out of his chest. He feels all of the breath leave his lungs as he struggles to breathe, his breath hitching and he barely remembers to let his own smile drift across his lips. But he does and the corners of his mouth turn up slightly and his heartbeat doesn’t slow but he remembers how to breathe.

And Louis’ eyes are shining towards him; the blue iris’ gleaming across the darkened room.

Then Louis starts pressing at the keys with intent this time, turning back towards the stark black piano and plays a melody that Harry can vaguely recall in the back of his mind.

Harry just watches as Louis’ body moves with the rhythm slightly. He watches as Louis’ hands race across the keys – chasing the music. He rests his head back against the wall and feels his eyes droop, heavy with sleep, something he rarely experiences.

And for once, he doesn’t want to feel this – he doesn’t want to be dragged away into unconsciousness, he wants to stay here and watch as Louis’ body moves to the music and the way he smiles as he plays.

He wants to watch this beautiful being in front of him – he wants to watch this masterpiece forever.

And this is it – this is the moment Harry knows he’s fallen too far. It’s a spark in his heart that spreads its way through his veins and soars around his body. He feels alert all of a sudden – awake with an intensity that makes his eyes grow wide.

It’s then that his mind slows down and he keeps breathing and the clock on the wall keeps ticking and Louis keeps pressing the ivory keys and Harry feels like everything should’ve changed but it hasn’t.

The world should be spinning around him – it should be turning him on his head, his mind should be racing with the possibilities; thoughts of doubt and sparks of hope.  

But all he can manage to do is watch the boy in front of him as he flicks his hair out of his eyes as the song comes to a close, the notes getting slower and softer and quieter.

As the final notes rings through the room, Harry let’s a blindingly bright smile spread across his face as Louis turns to him. Rubbing his hands together and twisting his fingers in nervousness, he looks up.

His smile dims slightly as Harry takes in the way that Louis’ eyes are staring at him. How it feels like he is staring right into his soul.

“That was – ” Harry begins, his voice breaking slightly, “That was beautiful.”

Louis’ back straightens ever so slightly before he gets up off of the bench and joins Harry on the window seat. Sitting on the other end, his back against the opposite wall and his legs draped across Harry’s; “Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, looking over at Louis under his hooded eyes, his lashes fluttering softly.

Harry closes his eyes, the adrenaline wearing off as exhaustion settles deep into his bones and he misses the way that Louis’ breath hitches and tears gather at the corner of his eyes. He misses the way that a smile breaks its way across his face – a smile that has only ever been reserved for Harry.

Darkness begins to overtake, allowing him to drift off into sleep with the warm comfort of Louis’ legs atop his and the sound of his soft breathing lulling him to sleep. 

 

+

 

And maybe he wakes up with a crick in his neck in the early hours of the morning, but he also awakens to the sight of Louis across from him, his lips parted as he snores softly.

The soft glow from the winter sun is filtering it's way through the glass windows, bathing the boy in a blazing glow. Harry just lets a blinding smile light up his face because that’s the way he always sees Louis – smothered in light, shining and bursting from him, glowing like the moon and burning like the sun.

Attracting attention from everything in his vicinity and drawing everyone to him like planets orbiting the sun.

As Harry’s gaze flickers across the room and out of the window, watching as the world begins to come back to life, he feels the most awake than he has in weeks.

 

+

 

“Teach me to play?” Harry asks as he watches Louis lightly press the piano keys a few days later.

And Louis just looks up, that burning smile on his face that makes Harry’s insides twist and turns his legs to jelly.

“Sure,” Louis says, moving over slightly on the piano bench to make room for Harry.

It’s then, as he sits down and Louis’ arms are brushing against his with bated breath, that he realises just how comfortable he is in Louis’ presence and it makes him smile so widely that Louis asks him what he’s so happy about.

“Just – I’m glad I met you,” Harry says, with a shrug, then he turns to Louis with a cheeky grin plastered across his face; “And I’m excited to see how hopeless you are at teaching me piano.”

“Hey!” Louis says, laughing, “I resent that!”

 

+

 

“I think I’m bi,” Harry blurts out in the middle of a FIFA game with Niall as they lounge on the sofa.

“Uh huh,” Niall says.

Harry furrows his eyebrows, “Do I not get more of a reaction?”

“Mate,” Niall says, grinning over at Harry from the end of the sofa, “I hate to break this to you, but you’re smitten.”

“I am not in love with Louis!” Harry says distractedly as Niall manages to score a goal on-screen.

Niall just laughs, wide and unabashed as he pats Harry’s shoulder; “Didn’t even mention Louis, mate.”

Harry’s body stills and his grip goes lax on the controller, “I – I didn’t –”

“Harry,” Niall says, “You’re kind of obvious.”

“I – what?” Harry replies, ignoring the game on the screen, “No, I’m not.”

“Uh, yeah, you kinda are.”

Harry groans and drops his head into his knees and Niall just laughs.

“None of us care, you know,” Niall says, his voice soft.

“Yeah?” Harry says, looking up from his knees and trying to keep the hitch in breathing from showing in his voice.

“Of course,” he says; “did you think we would?”

Harry just shrugs, “I don’t know – I mean, I don’t know how you guys grew up. I had no idea how you’d react.”

Niall pauses the game and wraps his arms around Harry’s body; “We don’t care, I promise.”

They stay like that for a few moments, before Harry un-pauses the game and starts playing over Niall’s shoulder; “Hey!” Niall yells, leaping back over the chair to grab his own controller, “I call cheat.”

Harry just laughs, the sound bouncing around the room, vibrant and full of joy.

 

+

 

The piano ‘lessons’ become a thing. Well, Harry uses the term lessons lightly because Louis’ actually a pretty bad teacher but Harry’s also a pretty bad student, so it usually just ends up in tickle fights, pranking the other boys or Harry watching Louis play.

And somehow he’s begun to start slipping into a light slumber every night; the stress placed on his shoulders beginning to feel lighter even though it’s still there. Harry knows that without Louis he would still be wandering the house and the garden in the middle of the night or just tossing and turning in his bed, trying to ignore the way the bed creaks as he moves.

So when Louis catches him up before their performance on week seven in the maze of corridors backstage and hands over his iPod, Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“What’s this?” He asks.

“Just –” Louis takes a breath, “We could go out any week – we both know that. And I don’t want to, of course I don’t. It’s just, when it’s over, we’re going to go home and you’ll be in Cheshire and I’ll be back in Doncaster and – ”

Harry feels his heart stuttering in his chest and he just grabs Louis’ hand in comfort, “Hey,” he says, “You okay?”

Louis shrugs, “Yeah, just – there’s a playlist on there, for you.”

Harry’s eyes grow wide in surprise, “Really?”

“When you can’t sleep, listen to it, okay?” Louis says, “I know it probably won’t even help, but I wanted to try at least.”

Louis goes to turn away, but Harry doesn’t let go of his hand, “Lou, wait,” he says before looking up and straight into those shining blue eyes, “Thank you.”

A smile makes it’s way across Louis’ face, so bright and blinding that Harry can’t help but return it tenfold. Then he’s letting Louis’ hand go and they’re making their way back to their dressing room.

 

+

 

The next evening, after finding out that they’re through to the quarter finals, Harry’s twisting and turning in his bed and he remembers the iPod Louis gave him and he grabs his own earphones and plugs them in.

He finds the playlist titled ‘Harry’ and presses the first track – they’re all unnamed.

“ _Hey, Harry,”_ Louis voice comes through his earphones, “ _So, I recorded myself playing some of my favourite songs, uh – I hope it’s okay._ ” Harry can feel his nervousness coming through his voice and he just smiles and curls up further underneath his duvet, capturing the warmth, “ _Enjoy.”_

Then the track cuts off and the first song starts and as soon as the opening notes of How To Save a Life start, Harry finds his smile growing impossibly wider and he just relaxes back on his pillow and listens.

 

+

 

He kisses Louis on a Tuesday and it’s on a Wednesday that Louis kisses him back.

 

+

 

It’s nearing twelve and they’re still at the piano, their arms brushing as Louis plays the Mario theme tune and Harry laughs before trying to copy and failing miserably.

“Hopeless,” Louis says, “You are so, completely hopeless.”

“Hey!” Harry replies, laughing, “That’s not nice.”

“No, okay,” Louis says, unable to keep the smile off of his lips; “You did manage to get the melody for Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”

And as if to prove it, Harry starts playing, the melody choppy and hesitant but the tune is still recognisable.

As it comes to a close, Harry drops his hands into his lap and bites his lip nervously.

“What?” Louis asks, eyebrows furrowing.

Harry shrugs; “Could you, uh, maybe play that song you played a few weeks ago?”

And Harry doesn’t expect Louis to remember but he does, and he throws himself into the music instantly.

Harry feels his breath leave his body as he watches Louis play, his fingers stroking the keys and his body moving in time with the rhythm. He sits there with his breath held whilst Louis plays.

Until the melody slows and comes to a close and Louis looks up at him, away from the keys, under his eyelashes that are fanning out over his cheeks.

Harry just reaches forward, surging towards Louis as if there’s a magnet attraction before pressing his lips softly to Louis’.

It’s 11:59 on a Tuesday evening when their lips touch and Harry breathes into the kiss and closes his eyes.

And it’s 12:00 precisely on a Wednesday morning when Louis presses back. He moves his lips in time with Harry’s as they melt together, Harry’s mouth opening underneath his and their tongues tangle together.

Louis’ hands slide into Harry’s hair, twisting his fingers into the dark curls as Harry’s hands rest gently on Louis’ waist.

Their breath is interlaced and their eyelashes are fluttering against each other’s cheeks and all Harry can do is tilt his head slightly; kissing deeper.

But then they’re pulling away, but only just. With their foreheads touching gently, Louis moves his hands down to grab Harry’s from his waist. His hands are cold to touch but Harry just clasps their fingers together tightly and hesitant smiles spread slowly across their faces.

“I –” Harry begins, before taking a deep, shaking breath; “You mean so much to me.”

“Yeah?” Louis says, blinking slowly and they’re still so close that Harry can feel the movement against his cheekbones.

Harry just nods slightly and he sees the way Louis’ bright blue eyes brighten and glisten in the light.

“God, Harry,” Louis murmurs, biting gently on Harry’s bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth as he draws him in for another kiss.

And this time, when they pull away with their hands still clasped, it’s Louis that breaks the silence; “You’re so special to me.”

 

+

 

When they finally crawl into their beds, Harry manages to fall asleep with a smile on his face. And deep down he knows that kisses aren’t going to suddenly cure him of his insomnia, but if they help his brain to calm down and help the frantic thoughts stop racing through his mind before sleep, he’s going to take it.

 

+

 

They don’t win.

There’s a crushing disappointment settled on his chest and he feels like he can’t breathe properly. They’d gotten _so_ far, but not far enough, apparently.

He can barely remember what happened after the announcement was made – he just remembers trying his hardest not to cry as he’s surrounded by his best friends. He barely hears Simon’s words about this not being the end of them, that it’s only the beginning.

Sitting backstage in their dressing room, there’s a sombre silence in the atmosphere. No-one knows what to say or how to even begin consoling each other.

And then Harry wonders what’s going to happen next and he finds words filtering from his mouth all at once; “We’re still –” he starts, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? We’re in this together; a team.” Harry feels the tears prickling at his eyes as he repeats Louis’ words from all those weeks ago. “I don’t want this to stop.”

Niall’s the first to move, getting up from where he’s sitting and moving over to where Harry is on the sofa. “You ain’t getting rid of us that easily, Styles,” he says, before collapsing next to Harry and pulling him in for a tight hug. If Harry’s heart didn’t feel so heavy, he’s sure he would be smiling and laughing but he _can’t._

And then all of a sudden, the other three boys are bundling on top of them and they’re all crying their hearts out. (Somewhere amongst the bundle, Louis’ hand manages to find Harry’s.)

“He’s right, you know,” Liam says, “Simon, I mean – this isn’t the end.”

But to Harry, it sure seems like the end of _something._

 

+

 

It turns out it was just the start of a whole new chapter.


End file.
